


cleave (to)

by tennisnotensai



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, not-that-explicit sex with feelings, rated E to be safe, so basically it's soft then mildly spicy then soft again, then more fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29430567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennisnotensai/pseuds/tennisnotensai
Summary: And this was where the shift in their relationship began, where their complicated situation gained a semblance of simplicity.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Ada Wong
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	cleave (to)

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** no beta, OOCness, English is not my first language, inconsistent tenses, i am very bad at prepositions, some curse words, not-that-explicit sex scenes
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** No copyright infringement intended.
> 
>  **A/N:** lately i've been thinking a lot about how different damnation!aeon is from re6!aeon, and this fic was the result. this wasn't what i'm supposed to be writing but this was what wanted to be written, and i managed to finish it just in time for valentine's day, so happy hearts day, aeon stans! 🥳

**I.**

_June 2011_

Before Leon left the law firm, he saw through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows the trickling of the rain outside, but as he exited the building, that trickling had already transformed into something close to a downpour. He stood under the awning, watching people hurriedly open their umbrellas as they rushed to and fro the steps. Maybe he should have watched the weather report this morning. He had no umbrella and his car was in a paid parking lot three streets away—damned congested streets of New York with vehicles parked in every direction—so if he wanted to go home, he could either go back to the forty-seventh floor and ask Ashley for an umbrella, or wait for rain to let up, or he could make a mad dash to the—

“Need an umbrella, handsome?”

Leon glanced to his right. “Ada?” he asked incredulously. “What are you doing here?” Really, this woman had a penchant for showing up in the most unexpected of places. It had been five months since the Eastern Slav Republic civil war, and three weeks since he ran into her during yet another investigation. Not much had changed since then. He was still a dog of the US government, and she was still a spy working for God knew who.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied.

“I’m here for work.”

“What a coincidence. I’m here for work as well.”

He narrowed his eyes. His mission was still in its early stages and already, it was getting complicated. “Where are you going now?”

Ada gave him a playful glance. “Work.”

“Well, aren’t you the busy bee.”

“And you? Where are you going?”

“Home.” That would be a four- or five-hour drive, depending on the traffic, and the rain just made it longer. “If I could manage to get to my car.”

Ada opened her umbrella—which was red, just like the dress she wore. She held out a perfectly manicured hand in invitation. “My umbrella’s a bit small, but we could manage to fit if we walk close together.”

Leon ignored her proffered hand; instead, he grabbed the umbrella—it really was kind of small—and guided her down the steps by the small of her back. To keep her close, he told himself, because the umbrella was small. You know.

Once they stepped out from under the awning, Leon felt the full force of the rain. It wasn’t the kind that would make people prefer to stay indoors, but it was heavy enough to completely drench someone who wasn’t carrying an umbrella. He felt the raindrops on his shoulder, soaking his arm, and saw that Ada’s exposed arm was in a similar situation. He surreptitiously tipped the umbrella to Ada’s side to make sure that she didn’t get wet any further.

But of course, she noticed.

“You’ll get wet,” she said.

“I’m already getting wet. Here, hold this for a minute.” He handed the umbrella back to her, shrugged his coat off, then placed it over her shoulders before taking the umbrella back. “And I have a change of clothes in my car,” he lied. “Didn’t you say you still have work to do? Can’t have you showing up where you’re going in dishevelled clothes, can you?”

Ada smirked as she tugged the coat closer to her. “Aren’t you the gentleman.”

She was already doing him a favour by sharing her umbrella with him. The least he could do was make sure she didn’t get wet. Or so he told himself.

They were walking on the pavement. A few steps to Ada’s right were a puddle and the road, and when he spotted a speeding car approaching, Leon instinctively switched their positions; he was now walking on the side closer to the road—and the puddle. The car zipped past them, splashing muddy water onto Leon’s steadily getting drenched clothes. Someone ought to arrest that car’s driver.

“You know,” Ada said as she stepped closer to him, “that really defeats the whole purpose of using an umbrella.”

Leon held the umbrella with his right hand so he could wrap his left arm around Ada’s waist and pull her close. To maximise the space under the tiny umbrella, he told himself. He ignored how it felt right holding her like that. “My clothes are already wet.”

Thankfully, Leon didn’t have to suffer in the rain anymore; just around the block was Ada’s destination.

“You have work here?” Leon asked as he stared at the establishment’s logo— _Lift & Wyndle’s Pancakes_. He closed the umbrella when they stepped under the awning.

“Sort of,” she answered. “Are you coming with?”

Leon wanted to go home before the rain got any worse, but just as he was about to decline Ada’s offer, the rain became a deluge. “Guess I’m coming inside.”

She opened the door, making the tiny bell above it jingle, and Leon was hit with the heavenly toasty air of an indoors heater. He could almost ignore the squelching of his wet socks inside his shoes.

Ada chose a table beside the glass windows. She draped Leon’s coat on her chair, and then a server handed them menus. Ada opened hers and unfolded a note slipped inside it.

“What’s that?” Leon asked casually as he perused the menu.

“Work,” she replied just as casually. She placed the note inside her purse and took another one from it, putting it inside the menu.

Leon hoped that no major B.O.W. outbreak would result from this secret note-passing. And if there was going to be one, he was certain that Ada would find a way to tell him.

Minutes later, their server was jotting down their order.

“You sure you’re not getting anything to eat?” Ada asked as she handed her menu with the secret note to the server.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Leon replied, giving the menu to the server. “Ashley has a surprising amount of snacks in her office.” He could still taste the Double Stuf Oreos in his mouth.

Ada stared at the streets outside. In the muted blues, greys, and whites of the café, her red dress and black hair stood out. She was a spy and spies worked best when no one knew that they were there, but right now, Leon’s eyes refused to look at anywhere else. This woman in front of him demanded every ounce of his attention, and whether it was to look for any signs of bioterror-related trouble or to simply just admire her arresting beauty, Leon would never know. Ada could turn heads or become one with the shadows at will. If she wanted to be seen, all eyes in the room would be on her. If she wanted to remain hidden, those same eyes wouldn’t see her even if she was standing right in front of them. She could turn that ability on and off, but for Leon, it seemed like it was always on; he was always drawn to her, wherever they may be. The pull she had on him was no laughing matter, and Leon wondered why no other woman ever made him feel the way she made him feel.

Their server deposited a cup of coffee in front of him, and then a cup of tea and a plate of those jiggly soufflé pancakes Ashley won’t stop talking about in front of Ada.

“What?” Ada said when she noticed Leon staring at the jiggly pancakes. “Do you want some?”

Leon shook his head and then drank his coffee. The pancakes really were jiggly, and when Ada moved her plate, they didn’t fall over….

A forkful of pancakes topped with whipped cream and drizzled with maple syrup was shoved in front of his face.

“If I knew you wanted these,” Ada said, “I would have ordered another plate for you.”

“No need,” he replied as he ate the food Ada held out to him. Now he realised why Ashley won’t stop talking about those darned pancakes.

“Good?” Ada asked.

“It’s nice,” he answered.

She gave him a knowing smirk.

Throughout their meal, Ada alternated between eating and feeding Leon, and each time, Leon accepted the food, like Ada feeding him was the most natural thing in the world. To other people, they may look like a couple out on a date, but in reality, they were just two individuals who occasionally met up to have some fun times in between the sheets.

It made his heart ache in an inexplicable way. Somehow, he wanted more—more of these not-dates with her, more instances of seeing her outside of work, more times of walking under an umbrella together and having her walk so close to him. He wanted more, more than just a quick toss in the bed to relieve some steam.

But it was impossible to achieve these flights of fancy. He couldn’t even make Ada stay the night; she was always gone before the sun had risen.

“You still thinking of going home?” Ada asked when she finished her meal.

The deluge wasn’t as heavy as from an hour earlier, but it was definitely still heavy. Driving home would be dangerous; Leon would have to stay in a hotel.

“I am,” he replied, “though I definitely can’t do it today.”

“My hotel room has a king-sized bed,” she said, but her dark eyes said something else. “It could definitely fit two grown adults, unlike my umbrella.”

Leon sighed. “I’m gonna have to pay a lot for overnight parking.”

Ada scoffed. “Like you couldn’t afford it.”

And just like that, they ended up where they usually did whenever they saw each other outside the battlefield—on top of a bed, moaning and gasping each other’s names.

Leon wondered when, in the past seven years that he had been seeing her, did sex with Ada start feeling like something more. There was something inchoate germinating in his heart, and he feared that letting it grow would do more harm than good.

**II.**

_August 2012_

Leon had been staring at Adolphe Monticelli’s _Still Life: Fruit_ for quite some time when he smelled Ada’s perfume. He had given it to her a few years ago, and she made a habit of wearing it every time they met. Somehow, the bottle still hasn’t run out.

He felt a hand on his arm.

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked.

He turned to face her and he almost stopped breathing.

_Gods, she’s beautiful._

“No, I…” His throat felt dry. Ada was wearing a red dress, a black coat slung over her arm, and a black choker Leon had given her the last time they saw each other. Her nails were as dark as the night and he wanted them to dig into his skin. Her lips were the colour of blood and he wanted her to leave kiss marks all over his body, but Ada was a classy lady who used only the best kiss-proof lipsticks. He was so tempted to buy her one of those cheap drugstore lipsticks so he could have another kind of mark from her mouth. “I…”

“Cat got your tongue?” she asked, an amused smirk on etched on her face.

He gulped and said breathlessly, “You’re beautiful.”

She stepped closer to him and affected a shy smile. With her heels, they were almost at the same height, and he could see a wicked gleam in her eyes. She gave him a quick kiss on the lips and said, “You look very dashing tonight, Mr Kennedy.”

He blushed. Leon had to force himself to look away from her.

She hooked her arms with his and studied the painting in front of them. “One of my earliest jobs was an art heist. I snuck into an auction house and stole a painting worth five million euros.”

“And where’s that painting now?”

“In the private collection of the person who hired me.”

“Why didn’t you stick with art heists? They’re far safer, I imagine.”

“Yes, they’re not as dangerous as my current jobs, but they’re not very challenging. Besides…” she whispered into his ear, voice sultry and velvety, “how would I run into you if I stuck to boring art heists?”

He felt her lips briefly brush the shell of his ear before she pulled away. She knew what she was doing, and he was all too happy to have those things done to him.

It was only a matter of time before they ended up in a hotel room. She hovered over him, his hands and feet tied to the bed posts. She trailed her lips across every patch of skin she could access—from his face, to his neck, to his chest, to his stomach, and all the way down, until she came back up and swallowed his moans. He said her name over and over again, like a mere mortal praying to the goddess above. No matter how many times she tied him up, his body always moved involuntarily, struggling against his restraints, itching to touch and feel her warmth. As her hands brought him to completion, all he could think of was he would let her do whatever she wanted to do to him if it meant seeing that pleased and satisfied look on her face because of _him_.

She straddled him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Your turn,” she said as she untied him. “How do you want me? You wanna tie me up?”

“No,” he replied. When he caught his breath, he switched their positions and added, “Just lie there and let me do all the work.”

“Confident, are we?” she said, smirking, as she did as she was told—she lay back down and let Leon do what he wanted to her. It was an oxymoron, because when did she ever do as she was told? Leon suspected that he was one of the few people she actually listened to, but only when it came to bedroom activities. That thought sent a thrill surging through him, and he got down to business.

He wrung a litany of his name from her lips, each syllable sounding like a desperate plea. He wondered when did the sounds she made give him pleasure beyond physical, like each sound vibrated into his soul. He wondered when did sleeping with her go from a simple seeking of release to putting her satisfaction first, his own be damned.

He wondered when did he stop fucking her and start making love to her.

He wondered and wondered and wondered, and as he frantically pushed inside her, he felt her nails dig into his skin and rake across his back. He lifted his head from her face so he could stare into her dark eyes. She gave him a small smile and laughed a little, although that soon transformed into an uncharacteristic moan when he went the deepest that he could.

He went slower and kissed her; she never did like it when men played rough. But he could tell when she wanted it rough, and she allowed him to give her what she wanted. Her arms wound around his neck and he continued kissing her, and then her legs wrapped around his waist, making him go even deeper.

He hid his face in her neck. He couldn’t stare at her, not right now, because he was on the verge of crying, and Leon S. Kennedy didn’t cry during sex. But this wasn’t just sex, was it? Here was the woman whom he would follow to the depths of hell. He would suffer from the arduous journey, but he would brave every hellfire that licked his skin if it meant being with her. He would follow her to hell, but right now, committing this act that transcended mere carnal pleasure, he wasn’t in hell—he was in paradise. Her moans and whimpers was the music angels made from their harps, and her trembling, feverish fingers that trailed across his back was the balm that soothed his tired soul. She wasn’t the devil and she didn’t drag him to hell—she was salvation, and every moment with her was benediction. Where others saw a demon that corrupted him, he saw a deity who granted him deliverance.

He put her on a pedestal, that much he would admit, and he initially confused the adoration and admiration he felt for her for something else. But while he did adore and admire her, he realised that he was just burying what he truly felt for her under a haze of lust. He loved kissing her, he loved drawing out scandalous sounds from her, he loved worshipping her body, but most importantly, he was in love with her. He loved her entire being, and what he was too cowardly to express in words, he would express in actions.

It was so easy to confuse physical attraction with what he felt for her, and it was so much easier to call it lust than love. Falling in love with her meant giving her the power to hurt him, but she would never do that. She may not love him back, but she would never hurt him, at least not physically. Already, he was feeling the heartbreak of knowing that his feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated.

He shouldn’t have given name to his petty feelings.

He lifted his face from and her neck and watched her face as she climaxed. Lust and love warred within him, and he thought how much he loved being inside her, how much he loved her. He soon followed afterwards. Maybe lust and love went hand in hand during sex; the more you loved someone, the more intense your release is, and judging by how he practically flew to another plane of existence when he came, maybe he loved her more than he knew. But he wouldn’t know. It had been a long, long time since he had fallen in love with someone, and what he felt back then couldn’t compare to what he felt right now.

He pulled out and collapsed beside her, half of his body draped over her. When their heartbeats slowed and their breathing returned to normal, she got up and went to the bathroom, then returned to bed. She pulled the sheets up to her shoulders and faced him, a small smile on her lips.

“Is it just me or was that really intense?” she said, voice soft with exhaustion. If she felt that intensity just as much as he did, then maybe, just maybe, there was an infinitesimal chance that someone like her could fall in love with someone like him.

He brushed the hair away from her face then leaned in for a quick kiss. “It’s not just you.” He pulled the sheets up to his waist. “It was...”

When he didn’t continue, she prompted, “It was what?”

He shook his head and gathered her in his arms. “It was a moment of realisation.”

“And what did you realise?” she teased.

_That I love you. That the only times I’m happy is when I’m with you. That I look forward to seeing you every time not because we both know we’ll just end up sleeping with each other, but because I love being with you. That you’re the only light I have in this dark world. That I love you, I love you, I love you._

And that was the tragedy of their situation—he gave a name to his nebulous emotions and stabilised them, coming into terms to what he felt, but did she feel the same? She once told him that she was incapable of caring about anyone and she didn’t want to lose him, that she was just a woman who fell in love with him, nothing more, but that was aeons ago. She probably didn’t feel the same anymore. Why would she? She was a spy. Attachments were poison to them.

“That you’re too good for me,” he said instead. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t what he wanted to say.

She kissed the tip of his nose. “That should be my line.”

Her hair was matted against her forehead. Her lips were swollen from kisses. Her neck was littered with marks. Her face was shining with sweat. But he didn’t care. He thought that she looked beautiful, even more beautiful than she did at the museum earlier. She looked more beautiful like this, after being one with him.

The marks on her neck would soon disappear. The scratches on his back would soon heal. The other side of their hotel bed would soon be empty. But what he felt for her—what he had been feeling for her for practically his entire adult life—wouldn’t go away any time soon. He wasn’t sure if they would vanish completely. She was now an indelible mark on his soul, a part of him he couldn’t let go.

He felt her place a kiss on his cheek. He ran a hand across her back and said, “What do you mean?”

She kissed his neck. “You have morals. You’re an upstanding member of society. A lot of people look up to you. But you’re sleeping with me, a spy who indirectly lent a hand in causing some of the world’s largest bioterror attacks. You shouldn’t be with me.”

“You’re not a villain, Ada.”

She laughed lightly and patted his arm. “Stop looking at me through rose-tinted spectacles.”

“I’m not. Yeah, you might be doing questionable things, but you’re not completely bad. I see the good in you, and that’s why I keep on seeing you.”

Her hand brushed his cheek and she looked at him with a soft expression that made the butterflies in his stomach beat their wings like a tempest. “You’re too good of a man, Leon. You’re wasting your time with me.”

He scoffed. “Anything—or anyone—that makes me happy would never be a waste of my time.”

He felt too much right now. His realisation of what he truly felt for her threatened to spill out of his mouth, but what good would that do? She could always stop seeing him. In fact, they should stop seeing each other, because being together already put their careers and lives at risk. But love made people foolish, and Leon was, right from the beginning, a fool for Ada. Instead of cleaving her out of his system, he decided to cleave to her.

So he kept quiet. He pulled her closer against him and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. It was a privilege that he possessed, having Ada lower her guards enough to let herself fall asleep in Leon’s arms. She trusted him enough to let herself be beside him in her most vulnerable state, because the one immutable thing about them was that they would always, _always_ protect each other.

It hurt a lot more when he woke up with her gone the following morning. Things were so much easier when he still hadn’t realised that he loved her. Involving feelings further complicated their already complicated relationship.

He went to the bathroom and admired the red and purple marks that adorned his neck, chest, and back, much like what one did to the paintings hanging on museum walls.

Leon hoped that next time, Ada would remain for as long as these marks stayed on his body.

**III.**

_April 2013_

Maybe Leon should have stopped those treacherous thoughts into forming into something they shouldn't have, but it was too late now; he had already given name to those feelings, and he was certain they wouldn’t be reciprocated. During the past months that he had been with her since his realisation, he had been very careful in concealing what he felt. He liked to think that he was doing a very good job, even though the frequency of their date-like activities increased. It wasn’t just going straight to the hotel; there were fancy dinners, walks in the park, trips to the beach, and all sorts of other activities that they never really did before. It was Leon who always proposed these trips, and Ada always agreed, much to his eternal confusion. He was glad that she never asked why they suddenly had itineraries before falling into bed together, because he wasn’t sure how he would answer.

Maybe they should be more careful in being together in public, but they both knew what they were doing. They knew where their employers could spy on them, and here in a five-star hotel in Les Baux-de-Provence, no one knew who they really were.

Tears almost welled up in his eyes when he saw Ada standing in the balcony, basking in the six-a.m. sunlight. Her hair was rumpled and she wore Leon’s shirt, and when she heard him approaching, she turned back to look at him, her face devoid of cosmetics but still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Good morning, handsome,” she said.

 _Good morning_. He never saw her this early in the morning before because she never stayed. He never heard her greet him with a _good morning_ before. He had never seen how the morning sunlight played with her hair, or how it made her eyes look olive instead of dark brown. He had never seen her in the morning after, and Leon was a grown man, but god fucking dammit, he wanted to cry for seeing the woman he loved just after the sun had risen for the first fucking time in his life.

“Hey,” he said, voice thick. “Slept well?”

She leaned in for a quick kiss. “Very well.”

It was cold and she had stolen his shirt, so he embraced her from behind and felt her warmth seep into his skin. His arms wrapped around her waist and she leaned back against him.

She looked at the sprawling greenery of the French countryside. “This reminds me of the view from a Dutch manor I once visited.”

“Visited, or infiltrated?”

She chuckled. “Both. I accompanied this Dutch businessman to a party held at that manor.”

His hold on her tightened and he felt jealousy flare inside him. Ada, in the arms of another man—

“What?” she asked when he didn’t say anything. She said, voice teasing, “You jealous?”

He laughed dryly. Should he lie? Should he tell the truth? There was one truth that he hesitated to tell her—that he loved her—so maybe telling her another truth would calm his raging emotions. “So what if I am? You’re not mine, Ada. I have no right to be jealous.”

“What if I want to be?” she said, voice so soft Leon didn’t almost heart it. “What if I want to be yours?” Her tone, lacking its usual flirty drawl, was filled with…hesitance, and Ada did _not_ hesitate.

Except when it came to him.

The morning was quiet, and all that could be heard was the soft whistling of the wind, the twittering of birds, and the hammering of Leon’s heart.

He buried his face in Ada’s neck, inhaling her scent. “Please don’t joke about that.” She could tease him all she wanted, but the one thing Leon hoped she wouldn’t do was play with his feelings. Did she even know how he felt for her?

“I’m not joking,” she said quietly. She turned towards him, her face unsmiling and serious. But in one second, that expression changed into something more light-hearted, perhaps in an attempt to dispel the sudden seriousness, or to not talk about things that would upset the status quo. “You know what else we did at that Dutch manor?”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

She placed her left hand on Leon’s shoulder, then grabbed his left hand with her right, holding it aloft. “Put your right hand on my shoulder blade.”

“What is this?” Leon asked warily as he did what he was told.

“Have you ever danced waltz, Leon?”

“Forget about waltz, I don’t think I’ve ever danced in my life.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “What about your high school prom?”

His cheeks reddened slightly. “…Except that one.”

“No dancing at clubs?”

“During my twenties, yes, but…Are you asking me to dance?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh. I forgot about that part.” She released her hold on him and stepped back. She gave a little bow then offered her right hand to him. “May I have this dance, Mr Kennedy?”

“W-What?” he spluttered.

Ada raised an imperious eyebrow.

He grimaced, but still accepted her invitation. “This is stupid.”

“Shush, you.” She positioned their hands. “Just follow my lead.”

“But I’m just going to step on your feet.”

She ignored him and began humming, starting with the box step. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three. Their steps brought them from the balcony to inside their room, and they managed to turn and twirl in the limited space. Leon didn’t know what to do with his feet and stepped on Ada’s multiple times, but she didn’t mind. She continued leading him, dancing to the music she was humming, and by the end of it, Ada looked like she was ready to laugh.

“What?” he asked almost defensively. Okay, maybe his pride was bruised a little bit. So what if he was as graceful as a donkey on stilts trying to walk on ice?

She shook her head. “You’re not yet ready to infiltrate high-society balls.”

“And why would I want to do that?” His hands found their way to Ada’s waist.

She put her hands on his shoulders. “You’d be surprised at how much information you can gather from dancing with someone.”

“And what information have you gathered from me?”

She didn’t say anything, but she gave him a smile that reached her eyes, like she knew something and she wasn’t planning on telling him.

She started swaying to music only she can hear, and Leon moved with her. She held his eyes, daring him to look away, but she probably didn’t know that he would never pass up the opportunity to stare into her eyes. His hands, which were previously at her sides, wrapped around her waist, his palms resting at the small of her back. Her hands, formerly on his shoulders, encircled his neck, bringing their faces closer.

The spring wind blew into their room. Leon, still topless, shivered, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the wind or his proximity with this woman.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.

She leaned forward and Leon felt her smile through their kiss.

It wasn’t anything sensual or passionate or torrid; it was just a simple touching of their lips—chaste, gentle, unhurried. Much like their very first kiss, but whereas that one was fraught with regret because of her imminent “death,” this one was something more…comfortable and familiar. Something that felt like home. Maybe, just maybe, Ada reciprocated a tiny little bit of Leon’s feelings, and maybe she had just accepted it. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Hoping for too much would destroy Leon’s heart.

They broke apart, eyes still on each other’s, their bodies still swaying. He was still not wearing a shirt, and she was still wearing his shirt. Leon feared that looking away would break whatever spell this moment had, so instead, he pressed their foreheads together and said, “Tomorrow, I want to wake up with you next to me.”

Her eyes twinkled. “That could be arranged. I guess tomorrow would be a lovely day for a new first.”

 _A new first_. It would be the first time that he would wake up and see her beside him. Suddenly he can’t wait for tomorrow to come. “Looking forward to it.”

And this was where the shift in their relationship began, where their complicated situation gained a semblance of simplicity. They have gone past their flirty dynamic and settled into something stable—domestic, even. It wasn’t that they stopped flirting; rather, it was as if they were both now sure of where they stood in each other’s lives, from not-quite-friends with benefits to not-quite lovers. Leon loved her, and Ada…cared for him, and for now, that was enough. For now, he would be content in not having her remain by his side.

For now, because the longer he kept quiet about his feelings, the harder it would be to accept that she might not love him back.

**IV.**

_October 2014_

Leon leaned against the bonnet of his truck as he watched Ada, red coat and all, return from the food truck. She held their breakfast burritos in one hand and their cups of coffee in the other, and then laid them on the bonnet.

He took a sip of his coffee before taking a bite out of his food. “How much farther are we?”

“Two hours at most, although I’ve been told that there was an accident up ahead.”

He sighed. “Guess we’re gonna have to brave the traffic jam, then.”

“I also heard that there’s a pumpkin patch nearby,” she said before sipping her coffee. “Wanna take a look?”

“What, we’re gonna carve pumpkins and decorate your cabin with them? That’s normal-people activity.”

“Why not? It’s Halloween.” She inched closer towards him. “And I have a costume prepared just for you.”

He smirked. “Yeah? And what costume is that?”

She placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re gonna have to wait to find out. Now, are we going to the pumpkin patch or not?”

Fifteen minutes later, after they’ve finished their burritos and coffee, they walked around the pumpkin patch, examining pumpkin after pumpkin. Leon picked one up and tapped it, listening to the hollow sound it made.

“Is that one good?” she asked as she rubbed her hands together.

He handed the pumpkin to her. “Careful, it’s quite heavy.”

She accepted the pumpkin and inspected it, noticing its dark green stalk and firm skin. “Looks good to me. Shall we get another one?”

He took the pumpkin from her and deposited it on their trolley. He took her hand with his left and pulled their trolley with his right. “You cold?”

She intertwined their fingers together. “Not anymore.”

He led her around the patch, navigating the crowd and pumpkins and hay bales and farm animals until they found a second pumpkin. It was approaching midday by the time they left the pumpkin patch, and mid-afternoon when they reached Ada’s cabin. They unloaded his truck, pumpkins included, and cleaned up the place until sundown. Once they have both taken a shower, they slumped down on the couch, eating reheated takeaway Chinese.

“I’m ready to call it a night,” Leon said as he placed his empty food container on the coffee table.

“It’s just eight p.m.,” she said, putting her half-finished food on the table. She opened her arms in invitation. “Come, lie here for a bit.”

He wasted no time in snuggling with her. He rested his head on her chest, and her arms immediately enveloped him. She stroked his hair, her ministrations almost putting Leon to sleep.

“You know, I really needed this.” His eyes closed as he focused on the feel of her hands massaging his scalp. “To get away from it all for a little while.”

“I know. That’s why I brought you here.”

The New York attacks happened earlier that year, and the DSO had been dealing with The Family since before then. Even if they have made a few arrests, that organisation was so big that Leon couldn’t see if there was an end to it. Its influence was vast and far-reaching, and they have members in all the branches of the government and in all sectors of the society. He suspected that it would be a long time before they could dismantle it for good, and on top of that, they had to be on alert for potential virus outbreaks. He was tired and he needed a break.

Today, he was exhausted, but in a good way. He cleaned an entire cabin for the better part of the day, and he was resting on the couch with the woman he loved.

Maybe he should say something about that.

Ada grabbed the nearby afghan blanket and draped it over him. The fire crackled in the hearth and he was warm, but she was warmer, and he was seconds away from falling asleep.

“Go to bed, Leon,” she said, squeezing his arm.

“Mm. I’m comfortable here.”

She sighed fondly. “It’s more comfortable there. Get up now, you big baby.”

“I’m a thirty-seven-year-old man,” he said petulantly, like a child.

“Get up and sleep on the bed, _old man_. We’re gonna wake up with cramps if we sleep here.”

They weren’t young anymore. Soon, their bodies would feel the effects of ageing, even if they both led active lifestyles. They weren’t young anymore, and they were getting a little too old for games.

He sat up, sleepiness suddenly gone. His eyebrows were drawn together, his mouth was set in a firm line, and he was staring at her with an unwavering eyes.

“Leon?” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m a thirty-seven-year-old bachelor.”

She brushed the hair away from his face. “Surprising, really. You could get anyone you want.”

He shrugged and laughed self-deprecatingly. “The only woman that I want doesn’t want me.”

She quickly withdrew her hand, as if she just got burned. “She told you that?”

He shook his head. “No, but…She’s not the type to want a committed relationship.”

“She told you that?” she repeated, firmly.

“No. I have never told her how I feel.” He looked away from her, then added in small, uncertain voice, “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

He felt her hands gingerly turn his head towards her. She was smiling, but he thought she looked…sad. She cupped his cheeks, her thumbs gently running through his skin like he was something precious. “You’re a wonderful man, Leon. Any woman would be lucky to have you. And if that person you like doesn’t like you back…” She withdrew her hands once more, like she was letting him go. “Well, that’s her loss.”

With the absence of her hands on his face, he gradually felt the chill return. He wanted to have that warmth back, and the thought of Ada not feeling the same way sent a sharp, stinging wave of coldness wash over him.

_What if I want to be? What if I want to be yours?_

Her words from more than a year ago echoed in his head, along with the image of her standing in a balcony, the morning light bathing her. He had woken up next to her several times since then, made breakfast with her, ate breakfast with her, and learned how she took her coffee and eggs. He watched the sunrise with her, and the rare times he got to see her during the mornings easily made mornings with her among his most treasured memories. Nights with her were fun and passionate, but mornings with her were something else entirely; they filled him with a kind of happiness that he couldn’t experience from anywhere else.

But that was just the problem—Ada rarely stayed. In the off chance that she felt the same, what kind of relationship would they have? Would it be the same as before with their trysts, or would their relationship grow into something more stable?

Leon doubted it. Their jobs would never allow it.

Even after she told him the truth about Tall Oaks and Lanshiang, he still loved her. Even after all the dodgy things she did and would undoubtedly continue to do, he still loved her. Even after the crushing possibility that she probably didn’t feel the same, he still loved her. But theirs is the kind of love that could never take root and could only sway with the wind—that was, if she even loved him back.

“Ada,” he said. They were sitting face to face on the couch, their knees barely touching. Her expression was unreadable, but she met Leon’s eyes head-on. He said, voice tired, “Ada. I want to be yours. More than anything else in this world, I want you to be mine and I want to be yours. These feelings have been eating me up from the inside for a long time, because I’m scared that if I told you how I felt, you’d stop seeing me because you don’t feel the same.”

She stared at him blankly for a while. Her silence unnerved him, but then she gave him a smile that melted him right on the spot. “Who said I don’t feel the same?”

He blinked, unsure if he heard her words correctly. … _What_? “What?” _What_?

She flicked his forehead. She bit her lower lip, as if to stop herself from laughing. “You should stop assuming things. But that’s rich coming from me, considering that I too was assuming something earlier.”

“What?”

“What happened to your vocabulary?” She leaned forward and embraced him, promptly falling on top of him. Her head lay on his chest, and Leon just went along with what was happening and hugged her back. “Do you know why I agreed to meet you in France?”

He trailed his fingers down her back. “Why?”

She looked up and stared at him. “I realised that I’m tired of leaving. I want to stay. And then Tall Oaks and Lanshiang happened. New York happened. I’m always there when your life is in danger, but you were suffering and I couldn’t be there for you. I want to be with you more than anything else in the world.”

His fingers stopped.

“But we both know that we can’t be together in the way that we want.” She straddled him then cupped his face, kissing him deeply. “There’s no rest for people like us.”

Leon’s hands rested at the small of her back. “I don’t mind. As long as I have you, I don’t mind.” He pulled her down for another kiss, and then he reversed their positions. He hovered over her, staring at her with blue eyes turned black.

“I thought you were tired?” She fiddled with the hem of his shirt, and he helped her shrug it off.

He kissed her in a way that belied what was about to happen—soft, gentle, and chaste. “Not anymore. Come on, let’s go to the bedroom.”

Ada laughed lightly. “Now you’re the one insisting on going to the bedroom.”

He stood and pulled her up with him. He grinned and said, “Can I carry you to the bedroom?”

She scoffed. “In your dreams, Kennedy.”

“Come on. It’s a lovely night for a new first.”

She smiled fondly, as if remembering something. Still, she said, “No.”

He brought her closer to him by her waist. “Is there no convincing you?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her body. She leaned forward and said against his lips, “Maybe some other time.”

He woke up the next morning with her sleeping beside him. It was becoming more and more common, the sight of her dreaming, and Leon didn’t know how he was able to let her leave all those times before. He would eventually have to return to work, and their holiday could get cut short any time if any of their employers call, but as of the moment, nothing else mattered but the woman sleeping beside him.

He didn’t know how long he had been staring at her because he saw her eyelashes slowly flutter open. She blinked her eyes awake and she gradually became aware of her surroundings.

Her eyes focused on Leon, making her smile sweetly. She said, voice sleepy, “Morning, handsome.”

He would never, ever get tired of hearing her say that, or of waking up next to her in the morning. Mornings with her were rare and precious commodities that he would hoard and selfishly guard. “Hey. Good morning. Shall we carve the pumpkins after breakfast?”

She snuggled closer to him but stopped when her face was a few inches away from his. “You’re gonna have to chop firewood first.”

He laughed. “Firewood first, pumpkins later. Got it. Anything else you want me to do?”

“Cook my breakfast.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Replace the broken light in the shed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Go down the mountain and buy laundry detergent.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Kiss me.”

He stilled for a moment and then smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

So he kissed her, and when they pulled apart, Ada’s face wore an expression that he had never seen on her before—soft and full of wonder, as if Leon was the most beautiful sight she had laid eyes on.

“Good morning, my love,” she whispered.

Leon’s doubts weren’t unfounded. The image Ada presented to the world was that of a detached and calculating woman who would stop at nothing to achieve her goals. But the world didn’t know her and Leon did. She had given him the privilege of seeing different sides of her that he suspected no one else saw. Everyone else knew her as a spy. Leon knew her as Ada.

These feelings had been burgeoning inside him before he even noticed that they were there in the first place. He let those feelings grow and flourish, and at the end, he was reaping the rewards of what he sowed—she now stayed, and most importantly, she loved him back.

He kissed her nose and replied, “Good morning, my love.”

They got up from the bed and dressed, and then padded towards the kitchen. It was such a mundane activity and nothing noteworthy in the grand scheme of things, but for these two people who rarely spent mornings together—for these two people who loved each other—it was everything.

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** lift, wyndle, and pancakes? hell yeah i'm stormlight trash ALSO i'm not american i don't live in the US we don't really do halloween here (although it's my favourite time of the year) and i've never been to a pumpkin patch, so all that talk about pumpkin patches was something i gleaned from a quick google haha
> 
> this was originally going to be real angsty but halfway through the fic i realised that it wasn't working so i changed directions and went with fluff instead haha


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